under the pictures

[[ "they" is someone undefined, indefinite, unlikely, impossible, discovering the remains of the last of humanity huddled in our tunnels/caves ]] 

if they come for us

they will come for us

down in the tunnels

maybe they'll find us

what is left of us

under the pictures

we drew on the walls

pictures of animals

running for their lives

from us 

if they come on us

bones and dust of us

down in the tunnels

let them laugh at us

all that's left of us

under the pictures

we drew on the walls

pictures of animals

running for their lives

from us 

down to the caves

[[ A song about love at the end of our time ]]

let's go down to the caves today 

and carve our names

let's go down to the caves today

and count the waves 

when this city falls in the sea

that's when you'll marry me

my stranger

that's when you'll marry me

when the ocean swallows this town   

that's when we'll settle down

my stranger

that's when we'll settle down

a history of me

[[ It's somebody who paints graffiti in the subway. But it's also those cave artists from the previous entry. ]]

The smell
of electricity
and aerosol.

I have known
this other sense
since I was small.

I touch the
tip of every
digit to the wall

I press a
fingerprint to
seal it all

and leave
(and leave)

a history of me,
complete and illustrated
mystery to me.

With a full and
finished wall,
each cell in me
(the imprint and
insignia of me)
tells in me.

I feel a fall into
the only well.

A lighted torch

[[ Have you seen the hand stencils in the caves? ]]

A lighted torch,

then hands reach
through the dark

(reach through the dark)

The artist's hands

a conjurer's hands

reach out to you

(reach out to you)

from when they were

(from when they were)

to when we are

(to when we are)

from what we were

(from what we were)

to what they have

(to what they have)

what we have become